


Blue Violets

by Sophie_skates_reads



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU, Angst, Can you tell I'm not used to doing tags?, Death, Dyin' Ain't so Bad, Fanfiction, Fluff, Historical, I cried six times while writing it, I'm so sorry, It's Worth It I Promise, Love Story, M/M, MCD, Major character death - Freeform, Not Beta Read, Otayurio, Prostitue, Rewrite the Stars, Sad, Song Fic (Kinda), Yuri is a prostitute, Yuri on Ice - Freeform, Yuribek, blue violets, it's sad, otayuri - Freeform, yuri!!! on ice - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23581921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophie_skates_reads/pseuds/Sophie_skates_reads
Summary: When Otabek first saw him he'd had the breath stolen from him.Soft, pink lips; a slim, almost frail build; and silky, golden hair that fell in waves down to the small of his back. The thing that caught Otabek's eyes and held him frozen in place, though, were the man's own.Striking green eyes that seemed to pierce your soul and see through your body were the first things that Otabek fell in love with. Cold and calculating at first, and warm and soft at the end, they were the one aspect of Yuri that he knew he would never lose.Or: the prostitution inspired, vaguely historical Otayuri AU no one asked for!
Relationships: Otabek Altin & Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 13
Kudos: 25





	Blue Violets

**Author's Note:**

> In this place, at this point in time, prostitution is legal and regulated. That’s all you need to know.
> 
> Please read the tags!
> 
> You've been warned. 
> 
> Enjoy!

New Orleans; 1917  
3rd Person; Omniscient  
Yuri lay in the small, shabby bed he called his own, and let his mind drift, sitting up and pulling his clothing on around him with numb hands. He gathered his tangled, unkempt hair and swept it over his shoulder as he pulled at the thin garments he wore, ripped and frayed in a few places-- courtesy of his last guest of the night.   
As his hand swept over his skin, gathering the fabric, he felt the bruises, blooming dark against his ghostly skin, seeing them on his collar bone, his neck, his legs-- even his cheek and just under his right eye. The last man had gotten a bit carried away.  
Yuri was broken from his thoughts by a knock at the door. Yuri turned, he hadn't been told that anyone would be coming for a while yet; he wasn't made up.  
"Come in," His voice cut across the air; crisp and clear, and the door handle turned. Yuri suppressed a shiver-- it was moments like these that were the most difficult for him. The few seconds of suspense, caught in anticipation of who this man would be, unsure of what would unfold. Somehow, the lack of a face made things harder; once he could see his customer he would be set at ease, but not knowing, in that moment in time, what was in store for him, struck him to the bone.  
The door opened slowly and a man walked into the room, turning to close it softly behind him.   
The man turned to face him, his eyes raking over Yuri's appearance, taking in the purple bruises he knew to be blooming already over his pale skin from the last customer; the red marks encircling his wrists and throat, the disheveled quality of his hair, and the raggedness of the clothes he had only half on as he stood up from the bed, some of the blankets slipping down the backs of his bare legs.   
Dark hair and even darker eyes met his own bright green ones, and the man moved forward. Yuri held his ground and looked up into the man's face as it gazed down on him, something inscrutable in his eyes. He raised his hand and Yuri looked away, knowing what would come-- he had the evidence flowering all over his body. Instead, a gentle hand cupped his cheek, stroking softly over the purple bruise painted onto the pale skin. Yuri repressed a flinch and looked up, surprised by the tenderness to the touch.   
No one had held him so carefully in a long time.  
As he raised his eyes to the man once more he found a small crease between his brows, a look of genuine concern in the deep brown eyes that gazed so intently upon him. As they looked into each other's faces, eyes meeting, Yuri could feel the weight of unspoken questions on the man's lips.   
The green eyes moved away first.  
Moving from the man's grip, Yuri walked over to his dressing table, placing a pale, long-fingered hand on the back of the chair to steady himself. He wasn't sure exactly why he felt so off-balance; there was something unsettling in brief contact with the dark-haired man, something he hadn't ever experienced with another customer.  
At the thought, Yuri remembered himself and turned back to the man who'd paid to spend the night with him. He hardened himself, carefully leaving his face neutral-- the mask he'd perfected over the years, but bringing his walls up higher, preparing himself for what he knew would come next.  
"What's your name?" The question left Yuri's lips with the practiced lilt he employed at the start of every session.  
"Otabek Altin."   
That was new.   
People never used their real names when they came to him, adopting personas of John Smith, Adam White, and the like. Otabek Altin, though, that name wasn't one he'd heard before and sounded foreign enough that he didn't think it was made up; no one would pick such an odd alias.  
He nodded, letting his long blonde hair fall forward across his face the way he so often did, looking at the man through dark eyelashes and waiting for him to take the bait.  
He did.   
They always did.  
The man moved forward and gently placed a hand on his cheek, brushing his hair back behind his ear with a care that Yuri didn't expect.  
Standing as they were, the man— Otabek, stood a head taller than Yuri, with the polar opposite frame. Where Yuri was lithe and slim, this man was sturdy and muscular, looking like someone who wasn't unaccustomed to farm work, though his hands suggested otherwise. From their two encounters with the sensitive skin of Yuri's cheek, he knew they were soft, and, if Yuri didn't know any better, he'd almost say kind— as if an appendage could portray such a sentiment.   
He did know better though, and maintained the role he was being paid to play.  
"And your own?" Again, the question took Yuri by surprise, but, then again, what about their little dance so far hadn’t?  
"Yuri." It was common enough for customers to ask his name, but they desired for him to remain anonymous in equal measure, wanting to keep him an object with a pretty face and a supple body and not have to think about him having a name or a life of his own. When his name was asked, though, Yuri normally batted his eyelashes and gave a coy smile, asking them wouldn't it be more fun to find out? He never did tell them, if he could help it, but, for some reason, this man seemed to disorient him—whether it be the soft, almost hesitant, touches, or the polite, inscrutable demeanor, he'd thrown him off his game and Yuri had given, for the first time in years, an honest response. "Yuri Plisetsky,"  
"It's nice to meet you, Yuri Plisetsky," Otabek replied, the faint suggestion of a smile in his eyes. Yuri inclined his head, an implicatory smile on his lips,  
"Likewise," He breathed, and pressed himself closer to the brunet, letting his hands splay out against his chest and looking directly up into his eyes, their faces only inches apart.  
If this were a normal day, a normal customer, a regular, even, this action would've been enough to have Yuri spread flat on his back, pushed onto the bed and straddled— likely even sooner than now. Nothing about this client was normal, however, and he didn't return the intimate touches, drawing back even, from Yuri's approach.  
Yuri had to work hard to keep his face even and stop the small, confused frown that threatened to appear.  
"Yuri," Otabek said, and his eyes didn't waver from Yuri's own, "May I kiss you?" Yuri, though taken aback, nodded, eyeing the man's approach.  
They came together, and carefully, even tentatively, the man pressed his lips to Yuri's own. The kiss was soft and smooth and deep, and, for the first time in so long, it managed to pull Yuri in, leaving him breathless. His eyes closed and he felt Otabek's gentle hands snake around his waist and cup his cheek, running through his hair. In response, Yuri's own arms traveled up and gathered behind Otabek's neck, keeping them locked together even as he felt Otabek's touch move lower, his hands coming to rest on Yuri's thighs before lifting him gently, carrying him to the bed and setting him down with a touch close to reverent.  
As they sank onto the mattress, their touches remained gentle, more along the lines of soft caresses than the frenzied, rough handling Yuri had come to expect from the men in his life.  
When at last Otabek broke away, parting the kiss, Yuri's eyes fluttered open, confused.   
As he watched Otabek with wide, questioning eyes, the man's hands found Yuri's body again, gently traveling over his waist-- stroking each bruise and scratch before reaching Yuri's face. His fingers trailed over the large welt on Yuri's collarbone, just drifting over the angry red marks that spanned the width of his thin throat, cupping the purple mark on his cheek, before his eyes met Yuri’s, a thousand questions and a thousand more sympathies within them.  
The man’s motions stilled and Yuri found himself trapped in his gaze, ashamed, almost, that this soft, kind man had to see the evidence of other, less considerate clients on the whore he was paying to share.  
And then Yuri couldn’t take it anymore, tugging the man forward with hands in his hair and pressing their lips together, moving in the way he knew always distracted men. Otabek watched him, eyes locked upon his the whole time, until finally relenting, and letting the protective gaze he wore fall.  
The night passed in a blur and Yuri found himself held closely, cushioned against Otabek's chest with a sort of careful warmth. After a while, Yuri let his eyes close, his body going heavy and drifting into sleep. Even as he did, though, he couldn't lose the strange feeling he got as he rested in Otabek's arms-- so foreign, but so painfully familiar too. This night had been like none he'd experienced before, and, for once, he let himself ride the high of it, not wanting the morning to come.  
It did, though, and Yuri felt himself being dragged into the light of day, though made no attempt to move. He was still held in Otabek's warm embrace, and based on the man's soft breathing, he could guess he was still asleep, and felt no desire to wake him.  
When he did, at last, wake, it was slowly, and, to Yuri's surprise and far from disgust, he gave him a soft kiss. Almost like saying good morning.  
It was strange, Yuri thought, to wake up in somebody's arms; all of his regular customers pushed him away in their sleep, done with him and desiring more space in the small bed. It wasn’t unpleasant, though, he considered, and, in some sick, twisted way, it brought on feelings of domesticity-- as though he was meant to sleep nestled into Otabek's chest, like their bodies fit so perfectly together for that express purpose. Like they belonged to each other and were not just client and servicer that would leave each other again like two passing ships in the night.  
The thought brought on a strange sense of melancholy, a feeling Yuri was not quite used to, and he pushed it away.  
He was not used to feelings: he was numb; impervious to emotion or anything beyond his control. His hardened shell, his tough exterior, it protected him. Whether or not there was someone in his bed, no matter in whose company he spent his nights and woke up next to, he was alone. Alone was what he had, alone protected him.  
Still, though, as he watched Otabek dress from his place in bed, he didn’t quite want to be alone just yet. Even as he dreaded Otabek's departure, it felt like the minutes dragged, and he almost wished Otabek were already gone so this feeling would go away-- indifferent normalcy restored.  
But when Otabek turned and faced him at last, dressed and ready, Yuri couldn't stop the sadness from bubbling in his chest.   
He looked away.   
Then, gently, a hand reached out and caught his chin, pulling it softly upwards so Yuri was forced to meet Otabek's eyes. Otabek smiled softly,  
"I'll be back," He said and Yuri nodded, a tightness in his chest lessening slightly at the assurance, though he knew it not to be true.  
And then Otabek was gone; sweeping out the door and leaving Yuri alone once again. Except this time solitude didn't seem like a saving grace; it felt more like a prison.  
Yuri rolled over in the bed, curling into himself and trying to stop the warm tears that trickled down his face. This had been the first night of his life in which he hadn't felt used, hadn't felt forced, or hurt, or bullied. Otabek had been kind and gentle, asking permission before doing things and making sure Yuri wasn't in pain. Losing that, watching him walk out of that door, Yuri felt abandoned in a way he never had. Maybe it was knowing that he'd never see him again, or being sure that he'd never again encounter someone so good to him, but, for the first time in years, he cried.  
***  
It was nearly three weeks later when Otabek returned.   
There was that tentative knock on the door, and when Yuri turned to see him: stepping into the room, it was all he could do not to jump from the bed and rush into his arms. He couldn't stop the smile that bloomed on his face though, and the intermingled feelings of joy and hot relief to see him again.  
Otabek smiled too and joined him on the bed, taking him into his arms and kissing him warmly, as if he'd missed him in equal measure.  
It was strange, to say the least, for Yuri to have become so attached to this man so quickly, and though he tried to quash the feelings down and raise his walls once more, he couldn't deny how much he'd missed him.  
Otabek, seeming to know exactly how he felt, just held him, strong and steadfast, as if silently promising never to let go.  
That night, they did something Yuri had never done before: they laid together in the small bed and talked; learning all about one another and just staying close.  
They talked for hours, until the sun came up, alternating between simply holding each other, and kissing; hands exploring the regions of each others' bodies that they were so desperate not to forget.  
Yuri found out that Otabek was from a country called Kazakhstan which was a part of Russia, and was delighted to learn that he had been to Moscow and Saint Petersburg, the cities in which Yuri'd been told his mother had lived before coming to New Orleans.   
When asked to speak some Kazakh, Otabek whispered words in a foreign tongue, the sound rolling off of his lips and resonating beautifully in the air.   
He also spoke Russian for Yuri, and Yuri thought the simple words struck something in his memory, bringing him back to his childhood when his mother had spoken Russian around the house. Without her around though, and not having heard it in so long or having been taught to speak it properly, Yuri had forgotten it, but gloried in hearing Otabek pronounce the eloquent words.  
That night, Yuri was held in the safe cocoon of Otabek's arms once more, and told about all the places the man had been to. He described the shimmering waters of Venice, and the skyscrapers of New York, drawing the glittering Russian winters in Moscow and the flowering gardens of Almaty-- the Kazakhstan city Otabek had grown up in-- in their minds’ eyes.  
By the time Otabek finished his tales, Yuri practically begged him for more, sitting up in the bay window with him and counting stars, pointing out the constellations with his finger.   
They talked of their childhoods, Yuri delighting in regaling Otabek with tales of the antics of his old cat, Potya, and of how he had used to like to ice skate in his youth.   
Otabek agreed that it was a good way to pass the time and they found they had it in common-- enjoying slipping on the ice in winter and going to the outdoor rinks when they could.  
Otabek told Yuri about his love of music and Yuri told Otabek how much he loved literature-- stealing his friend Mila's books whenever he could and even sneaking peeks at Lilia (the owner of the brothel)’s poetry journals.  
By the time the sun came up, the two had no doubt in their minds that they wouldn't lose each other.   
Once again, before leaving, Otabek promised to be back on the same day the next week, and Yuri admitted to him that he'd count the minutes.  
This time, after Otabek left Yuri's room, Yuri couldn't help it: he smiled. He fell back onto the bed from which he'd risen to kiss Otabek goodbye, and let himself run over the events of the night-passed in his mind, feeling his heart beat in his chest at the excitement and anticipation of Otabek's next visit.  
After only two meetings, two nights spent together, Yuri knew it: he was in love.  
But all love came at a price.  
From then on, Otabek came every week, appearing as promised every Wednesday.   
Sometimes, he brought gifts; a silver hair comb; an orange; a poetry book, always accompanied by blue violets. Yuri sometimes joked that this was their flower, with their now perpetual presence in the vase on his bedside table, to which Otabek would sincerely respond that that was why he brought them.   
When asked why it was always blue violets, with their repetitive name and all, he earnestly told Yuri that the flowers reminded him of him.   
They were common flowers, really, but Otabek didn't think of that, only looking at them and seeing the beauty and the strength they carried, surviving everything life threw at them and blooming brighter and better because of it.   
The look of them covered in frost reminded him of the look in Yuri's eyes that first day they'd met, and while Yuri's eyes were green instead of the blue of the flowers, the icy sheen that covered the petals was the same found in Yuri's irises: fierce, determined, and indomitable.  
One day, sometime around their seventh meeting, Otabek told Yuri that he loved him.   
Yuri had stilled, raising his piercing, green eyes to Otabek's brown and returning the comment with a warmth Otabek had only dreamed he'd hear from the man. Hearing it directed at him-- it made him happier than he could explain.   
That was the day he solidified his plans to take Yuri away.   
He'd been thinking about it for a while, dreaming in impractical ways of coming to the house and sweeping him into his arms-- carrying him away to Paris, or Rome, or anywhere, really.   
That day, hearing Yuri admit that he felt for Otabek what Otabek felt for him; that was the day Otabek started planning in earnest. He would ask Yuri to marry him, ask him to leave New Orleans and travel the world by his side, ask to be allowed to hold him forever.   
Their visits became a bit less frequent after that; only once every ten days instead of every seven, and though it concerned Yuri to see his lover less, and so preoccupied when he did, he trusted him and believed it when he was told it was for a beautiful surprise in store.   
Over the coming weeks, Otabek spent his time agonizing over how best to ask Yuri, to whisk him away to some exotic place where they could live out the rest of their lives, happy together and away from the judging eyes of society. Just the two of them.  
And so it continued this way for nearly 10 visits.  
On the day of the tenth visit, Otabek knocked on Yuri's door, smiling at the sound of his love's voice on the other side, beckoning him in.   
As Otabek stepped inside, Yuri's face lit up as he saw him and he stood from his position resting on the bed-- all but running into his arms.   
Otabek caught him easily, twirling him around once before setting him back on his feet. Yuri smiled and set a hand on Otabek’s arm as he was let down, stumbling slightly with the sudden change in position.  
Letting one hand cup Yuri's cheek and kiss him gently, Otabek placed the other in the breast of his coat, and, subtle though he tried to be, Yuri's keen eyes were not blind to the motion.   
The sharp green gaze followed Otabek's hand as it glanced over the small box in his pocket, then, thinking better of the timing, as it seized the small gift Otabek had brought along as well.   
Yuri rolled his eyes gently as he watched Otabek draw out the second box, giving him a half-endeared, half-exasperated look.  
"You know you don't have to bring me gifts every time you come," Otabek just smiled,  
"How else can I make up for the newfound infrequency of our time together?" Yuri just shook his head softly, a small smile on his lips, but Otabek thought he could catch a faint:  
"By coming more," under his breath. Instead, though, Yuri just asked, "So, how is this mysterious business going? Are the details still forbidden?" And though his tone was playful, Otabek didn't miss the note of hurt in Yuri’s eyes as he shook his head once more, fearing that Yuri thought he didn't trust him enough to divulge anything too complicated.  
"I'm afraid so," Otabek said, still carrying that tone of levity but hoping to communicate in some unspoken way that he was sorry for not telling Yuri about what had been keeping them apart recently. He just hoped the end result would make up for the means of which it came about.   
"But," He said, "I can promise it'll be worth the wait. After all, where's the fun in a surprise if you know in advance?"  
"In the unveiling," Yuri said promptly, not missing a beat, but let the subject drop. "So, what, pray tell, lies in the box you hold so close?" Otabek's lips quirked up and he glanced down, having all but forgotten the box was still in his hands.  
Instead of answering, he just held it out and watched as Yuri's dainty hands unwound the periwinkle ribbon (the closest thing he could find to the dazzling green of Yuri's eyes, though a poor substitute) and plucked the few violets from the knot of the bow, placing them almost absent-mindedly in the vase he kept on standby.   
As Yuri lifted the lid he gasped, and Otabek couldn’t help but beam at the look of incredulous disbelief on his face.   
Delicately, as though just his touch might break it, Yuri lifted out a thin golden chain upon which dangled a small emerald charm.   
It was a small thing, really, just a stone whose shape was somewhere between a tear-drop and a circle suspended from a simple chain. The remarkable thing about it, however, and the reason Otabek had bought it on sight, was that where the ribbon it was tied with struggled, the pendant exceeded. The color of the emerald on the chain was the exact same hue as Yuri's eyes, down to that icy, strong layer Otabek had first been drawn to, and the bright clarity lying just beneath.   
"Beka, how--" Yuri spoke in a tone positively riddled with both awe and skepticism, but he couldn’t seem to lift his eyes from the small piece of jewelry before him. "It must've been so expensive,"   
While it was true that this had been the most expensive of Yuri's gifts so far, it was far from pricey, though based on the extravagance Yuri seemed to see when he looked at it, Otabek would guess he thought it was made of nothing but diamonds.  
"You didn't have to," Yuri shook his head slightly, his lips just slightly apart and wearing a small frown.  
"I did." Otabek stated, and this startled Yuri out of his apparent reverie, raising his gaze to Otabek's eyes, "The second I saw it I thought of you and how perfect it would look on you," Yuri shook his head slightly, incredulously, but held the necklace out, lifting his hair and allowing Otabek to clasp it at the nape of his neck.   
Together, they turned to the small mirror at Yuri's vanity, and as they gazed into its depths, they wore matching smiles, though it was true Yuri's was quite a bit more hesitant than Otabek's.   
"It's beautiful," Otabek murmured, then, turning to make eye contact with Yuri, "You're beautiful,"  
“And you’re corny,” Yuri replied, smiling, but bit his lip, "Are you sure?" He asked for what must have been the umpteenth time, "I don’t think I'm worth the expense..."  
"I can think of nothing better to spend my money on," Otabek said earnestly and Yuri let out a shaky laugh, shaking his head again, though his excitement still seeped through.  
"I'll never take it off," He promised, turning away from his reflection to thread his arms around Otabek's neck. "Thank you."  
In response, Otabek just gave him a soft kiss on the head.   
Still smiling, Yuri leaned up and kissed him in the proper place, taking his hands and leading him gently to the bed.   
With this, they went into their usual dance; hands caressing each other, kissing, and eventually finding themselves on the covers, not entirely sure how they got there. This time, though, Otabek stopped them, concerned.  
As they’d gone, Yuri's movements had gotten farther and farther from their usual fervor, now sluggish and weighted. As Otabek broke the kiss, he noticed too that Yuri’s breathing was labored; heavy, and his eyelids flickered exhaustedly even as he pulled away to look at Otabek for the cause of the interruption.  
"Yura?" Otabek asked, examining his fine features, "Are you alright?"  
"Yes," Yuri said, just a little too quickly. Then, at the searching glaze Otabek sent him, seemed to deflate, "I'm sorry," Yuri said quietly, "I'm just a little.... out of it, today; I didn't get any sleep last night and my head's a bit dizzy."  
"Of course," Otabek replied immediately, determinedly not thinking of what Yuri's last night had most likely constituted of, and sending him a reassuring smile instead, "How about we just sleep tonight?"  
Yuri nodded, his hand going to the pendant around his neck, "And after such a perfect gift too," He murmured quietly; the faintest whisper. But, of course, Otabek caught it and gently brought the tips of his fingers to Yuri’s chin, tilting it up so that their eyes met.  
"Hey," Otabek replied firmly, taking Yuri’s hand softly and guiding it away from his neck to rest intertwined with his own at their side. "It’s okay.” And when Yuri didn’t seem quite convinced, “I’m afraid it is a human weakness to get tired sometimes," Yuri's smile at this was a bit strained, and his eyes flicked away from Otabek’s own to the floor. Otabek frowned, "What?"   
"Nothing," Yuri just shook his head, brushing the moment off and offering a small, exhausted smile. “Just tired,”   
"Okay," Otabek returned, eyes studying Yuri’s face, the way he held himself, with more than a little concern. It was not the first time he’d worried over how hard Yuri worked and about just how little his knowledge of his job extended. "This is actually nice-- I'm tired too; a long day of surprise planning can be exhausting." Yuri just rolled his eyes at this, allowing Otabek’s arm to coil around his waist and smiling softly as he pulled him gently onto the bedspread.   
They laid as they always do: Otabek spooning Yuri at his back, arm draped across his narrow waist in a protective way.   
Yuri smiled softly; it felt so right to lie here like this: safely nestled into the hollow of Otabek’s chest, like he was meant to be there-- made for it, even.  
And so, entwined within each other's embrace, the two drifted gently off to sleep, dreams pulling them into fancy-- any suspicion or stress from the evening forgotten in the bliss of simply being together.  
***  
The next time Otabek came, it was a bit earlier than scheduled, but he knew Yuri would be free; he'd told him that he didn't have any regular... calls, on Thursdays, and rarely took walk-ins; Lilia disliked them for some reason; the rudeness of the practice maybe, though it was not as though her profession was a particularly polite one, to begin with.   
So, when Otabek entered the house, he was surprised to hear that Yuri was busy.  
"May I interest you in Irine?" The red-headed girl behind the counter continued with a false smile. “She bears quite a resemblance to Yuri if that's what you seek,” Otabek shook his head  
"May I inquire as to when he might be free?" Otabek replied evenly, "I'm sure he'll see me," The girl's eyes narrowed slightly and her smile faltered for a second, and though a less observant person might not have noticed it, Otabek was, as Yuri put it, “freakily perceptive.”  
"He doesn't see people often." She replied shortly, the fake warmth fading fast, "I can guarantee he's not interested." She turned, as though she considered the discussion closed and expected him to find his own way out, but Otabek stopped her, taking a chance-- for reasons even he himself wasn’t too clear on.  
"Otabek Altin." Otabek told her and her eyebrows shot up as she pivoted on her heel to face him once more-- regarding him with a suspicious expression. "I'm Otabek," He clarified, "I have no intention to... use him, only to speak to him," He trailed off and the girl stared at him, eyebrows creased and biting her lip. Based on the indecisive look on her face, along with the flash of recognition she’d worn when he’d given his name, Otabek assumed she’d heard about him. And, Otabek knew that if she’d heard of him it would have been from Yuri himself, and since he only spoke to a few people regularly….  
“Mila?” Otabek took a guess, and she stepped back, crossing her arms protectively in front of her chest. She regarded him with a new wariness.   
“How do you know my name?” She asked quickly, and Otabek raised his hands slightly; gesturing defeat,  
“Yuri’s mentioned you,” He said, and, if he wasn’t mistaken, her lips twitched, and an almost fond look came into her eye before she refocused herself. “I don’t-- use, Yuri the way the others do.” Otabek began, not entirely sure how to explain that he only wanted to talk to Yuri, wanted to see him again and tell him only a little longer, that they only had to wait a little bit longer and then they could be together. Mila stopped him though, and put up a hand.  
“I’ve heard,” She said, her eyes still narrowed, and though she admitted to having known about him, she gave no signs of any sort of improved trust. “Yuri’s… told me about you.” She pursed her lips and regarded him with a calculating gaze, before, by the looks of it anyway, she threw caution to the winds. “What do you want with him?” She asked abruptly, and stepped forward so she was standing pressed against the counter-- as close to Otabek as she could be without coming out from behind it. “Why do you do this? Why do you use him like a doll and then back up and try to get to know him? Don’t play with his feelings; the way he talks, it’s, it’s as if he thinks you--” She broke off and fixed him with an expression nothing short of dangerous. “You are not all that he says you are.” She stated flatly, “You can’t be. So, for his sake, please: leave him the hell alone.” She turned on her heel and made to march away, obviously having fulfilled a long-harbored desire in telling Otabek off, but he stopped her with a hand at her wrist.   
She stumbled and whirled around to look at him immediately, yanking her arm back and drawing away; frightened. It was only then that it occurred to Otabek that she must’ve taken a great risk in speaking so boldly to him-- the girls (and Yuri) working at the brothels were taught from an early age to be unfailingly polite-- simpering creatures that attended to their customers’ desires with a sweet, submissive obedience.   
“I’m sorry,” Otabek said quickly, moving away as well and raising his hands again in a peaceful gesture, “I didn’t think. It just upset me to hear you talk like that, as though my intentions were so one-sided and so far from what they are,” The girl-- Mila, blanched at this but made no move to interrupt him. “Please,” Otabek said, “Allow me to explain,” Mila wavered, raking him up and down with her eyes. At his look of pleading though, she gave a hesitant nod and motioned for him to continue.  
“I love Yuri.” Otabek began, and though he had not intended to start there it just sort of tumbled out, and the scoff it earned him just spurred him on. “I do.” He challenged Mila’s skeptical gaze.   
“Sure you do,” She replied, rolling her eyes as she spoke, “You think that’s impressive? Please. I’ve heard it all before-- we all have. ‘I love you, you’re the one I think of when I’m alone,’ Blah blah blah,” She said in a high-pitched, mocking voice, cynicism dripping from her every vowel. “It means nothing. They don’t love us-- though I don’t question that they think of us when they’re alone,” She snorted, “How do you think we get pretty things? The pin in my hair,” She pointed to an opal broach nestled in her crimson locks, “Yuri’s silk kimono-- it’s all their love.” She shook her head and narrowed her eyes once more, “I don’t know what you think you have, but whatever it is just swallow it and get a fucking life-- or a right hand, more accurately.” She spat the last words and Otabek was taken aback yet again by just how hostile she was.   
“I do love Yuri.” Otabek said rigidly, and his calm, even demeanor was cracking, he could feel it, “I don’t care if you’ve heard it before-- I don’t care if ten thousand men have come and gone and said it to you and Yuri alike. I’m sorry that no one meant it and I’m sorry that your lives are so full of disappointment, but for the sake of all things decent do not dismiss my feelings as the misplaced desires of other men! I do care for Yuri, I would die for him if given the need and if I never saw him again and he was happy that way I would do it.” The girl looked vaguely surprised by that but Otabek didn’t stop, now set on proving his devotion for someone who had no idea this whole exchange was even happening. “I want to take Yuri away,” Otabek said, pulling out his trump card and watching with a sort of vindictive pleasure as Mila’s eyes widened. She hadn’t heard that one before, Otabek though with a sort of grim satisfaction.   
“You won’t,” She said quickly, “You’d have to buy his rights from Lilia-- there are rules for these things. You may say that he’ll walk away by your side but you’ll never do it-- it’s just one more pretty lie that falls from your lips and the lips of men like you.”   
“Oh, but I will.” Otabek replied without missing a beat, and, just to prove it, took out two train tickets, unripped, from his breast pocket and laid them upon the desk between them.“I’ve been working,” Otabek continued, “Yuri will have told you that our days together have become infrequent and it is because of this that I am having to shorten my time with him. I’m working, taking on every new project I can and then some to buy our way out of here-- away from New Orleans. I came here today to tell him that, while it’ll take until the week’s end for me to secure passage upon a ship, I can take him away from this place-- I have our train tickets right here.” Mila’s eyes flicked from the tickets on the desk up to Otabek and back down again. She looked stunned.  
“You…” She paused, “You truly intend to take Yuri with you-- to be married in some far off city and live by his side?” Otabek nodded.  
“That is all I have ever wanted. In coming here I found my life and my love and I will not have you thinking I see Yuri as anything less than that,” Mila didn’t speak but stared at the tickets on the counter, taking in every detail with her eyes.  
“I--” She paused, seeming to gather herself before drawing herself up and looking back at Otabek, meeting his eyes, “I believe you.” It was a statement, and, for the first time throughout their encounter, Otabek smiled-- relieved to find the argument over and himself standing victorious.  
“Thank you.” Otabek replied, and reached out to tuck the twin tickets away into his pocket. Mila’s eyes followed his every movement. “Now,” He said, with a beseeching glance up the stairs, “Could I please see Yuri? I only want to tell him the good news.” Mila startled slightly and turned to look over her shoulder before facing Otabek again.  
“No.” She said firmly, with a small sigh-- as if she was going into battle, “I’m sorry, your point is valid and I can find no fault in your reasoning, but no-- not today.”   
Otabek was crestfallen; why had they gone through all of that if he was still not permitted to see Yuri?  
“Why?” He couldn’t keep the petulant tone from his voice and Mila huffed impatiently.  
“Because,” She explained, looking annoyed, “Yuri is busy, as I told you before. I may believe you care for him now but that doesn’t just suddenly make him available.”   
Otabek felt the strong compulsion to correct her for saying that he cared for Yuri when he really loved Yuri, but curbed the impulse. Starting another argument would not get him any closer to his goal.   
“Then after?” Otabek replied tightly and the girl let out a frustrated-- not quite shriek, but more than a groan.  
“There is no after!” She cried, seeming utterly infuriated by their conversation and the way it had wound right back to the very beginning with no success-- at least, none on her part. “He will be busy all day, so, for god’s sake: just leave! Come back next week!”   
Otabek let out a groan of frustration: “Fine!” He came very close to shouting, but was able to-- if not level, then calm-- his voice at the last moment. “Fine,” He said again, breathing deeply through his nose, “I will come back for our standing appointment.”  
“Thank you,” The girl replied and looked relieved as she slumped back into the chair behind the desk and watched as he walked back through the house and out the front door with a satisfied smirk.   
The smirk dropped from her face a few moments later though, as she recalled the main focus of their argument and stood with a small gasp, shaking her head at herself and her lack of presence-of-mind. “Oh,” She murmured as she stood, “Yuri,” and with that she turned tail and ran back up the stairs, heading for his bedroom with a quick pace and hands twisted together in worry. “Please,” She muttered to herself, almost in prayer, “Tell me…” The rest of her sentence went unheard though, for at that moment she reached Yuri’s door.   
Taking a deep breath and smoothing her dress to compose herself, she stepped inside.  
***  
When Otabek arrived the following Wednesday, positively buoyant with both the train tickets and the passage for the ship in his pocket, he was met with a grim sight: Mila, Lilia (with whom he’d only done business once), and a man -- tall, with silver hair-- conversed rapidly at the counter before seeing him and going still.   
“I’ve come for my standing appointment with Yuri,” Otabek said, his gaze flitting between them and coming to rest upon the bag the silver-haired man held aloft. “Is he--” Otabek asked, his voice betraying his anxiety at the look the three gave each other as he voiced his request, “Is he available?” Mila took a breath.  
“He’s ill.” She said quietly, eyes shining with unshed tears, “Doctor Nikiforov’s just been to see him,” She broke off, “He’s been asking for you,” Otabek sucked in a breath,  
“Take me to him.”  
As soon as Otabek stepped through Yuri’s door, the smell hit him like a freight train, and any hope that Yuri was merely under the weather flew from his mind. It wasn’t an altogether terrible odor, but one painfully familiar to a doctor’s son, and the stench of stale sweat, old water, and vomit left little room for doubt.   
Otabek flew to Yuri’s side, taking his hand resting limply on the blankets and scanning Yuri’s body. He was asleep, but he twisted weakly under the blankets and the pained expression on his face made it clear that his slumber wasn’t a restful one. Eyes trained on Yuri’s pale, sweat-beaded face, Otabek asked quietly,  
“Typhoid?”  
“Yes,” Said Doctor Nikiforov from the doorway, “Stage Three. I’d very much hoped it wouldn’t get this bad but I was unable to break the fever,” Otabek nodded, moving one hand up to stroke Yuri’s sweat-drenched, matted hair away from his face.   
“How did he contract it?” Otabek murmured, more to himself than anyone else, “I’ve never seen a case this far west, though it was fairly common in Kazakhstan.” The doctor shot him a confused look and Otabek elaborated, remembering himself and the others in the room, “My father was a doctor in Almaty-- I grew up as his assistant so I know my maladies.” Nikiforov nodded,  
“There were a few cases downtown, beyond that my only guess is that rats tracked the feces into something he would have consumed,” Otabek nodded again but offered no comment.  
Reading the room, Nikiforov put a silent hand on Mila’s shoulder, still in the doorway, and guided her and Lilia out into the hall, leaving Otabek in peace.  
Otabek gazed upon Yuri with pain in his eyes, knowing by looking at him that the thing he feared most was an inevitability. Tears clung to his eyelashes as Otabek pressed a kiss to the flushed skin of the top of Yuri’s hand, feeling just from the brief contact how high his temperature was.   
Otabek sat there, having dragged the chair from Yuri’s vanity over to his bedside, for what might’ve been hours, watching him. Taking a once-cool but now room-temperature cloth from the small, water-filled bowl on the bedside table, Otabek ran it over Yuri’s face and neck, letting it rest on his forehead. At the cooling contact, Yuri’s eyelids fluttered, his eyes drifting open, that dazzling, emerald green peering up at him through the fever’s haze.  
“Beka?” He murmured, voice nothing more than a whimper, gazing at Otabek’s face.  
“I’m here,” Otabek replied gently, lifting Yuri’s hand to his lips. A small, cracked smile formed on Yuri’s face, and his eyelids fluttered.  
“Beka,” He cooed quietly, “You came,”  
“I came,” Otabek agreed, nodding, “I’ll always come for you, Yura,” Yuri smiled again and looked up at Otabek through half-lidded eyes, seeming to drift somewhere between awake and asleep. “I love you,” Otabek whispered gently, stroking Yuri’s matted, blond locks.  
“I love you too,” Yuri’s voice was scratchy and he let out a dry cough with his words. Almost immediately, he began to cough in earnest and his entire body shook, his chalk-white face flushing scarlet with exertion.  
As gently as he could, Otabek slipped an arm behind Yuri’s back and lifted him from the bed, his breath catching at how light the man had become, and helped him sit up, joining him on the covers and letting him lean against his chest.   
Yuri coughed viciously, dragging in breaths after every bout ended but only emerging hacking once more, gasping for air.  
When the fit had passed, Yuri fell limp in Otabek’s arms, and he gently lowered him back onto the bed, propping him up atop a mass of pillows. As he was arranging them though, Yuri’s voice rasped through the silence.  
“Hold me,”   
Otabek had thought he was asleep.   
Nevertheless, he did as he was told, and, as carefully as he dared, he shifted Yuri up on the bed so he could lie slightly behind him, pillowing his head on his chest with his arms around him-- just like the nights they’d spent together.  
Yuri smiled softly, eyes closed, “You came,” He hummed again, and Otabek sucked in a breath.  
“Yeah,” He said, willing his voice steady, “I did. I’ll always come,” Yuri gave that small, exhausted smile once more and shifted his hand so it brushed against Otabek’s own.   
Taking the signal, Otabek intertwined their fingers, giving Yuri’s hand a light squeeze.  
“Tell me a story,” Yuri murmured, and Otabek smiled, remembering the second night they’d spent together and the tales Yuri had so delighted in.  
“Okay,” Otabek said slowly, gazing down upon the pale face. “Do you know why I haven’t been seeing you much these last few months?” Yuri opened his eyes, clouded and confused still, but shook his head minutely-- eager even in his illness to find out the secret that had been kept from him for so long.   
“I’ve been working,” Otabek continued, smiling gently down at him and stroking his cheek with his thumb, “I’ve been working really hard so we can go away together,” Yuri’s eyes, which had been drifting closed, opened slightly, and Otabek continued, “We’re going to go away from here,” He said softly, “We’re going to travel the world together-- we’ll go to Russia and Kazakhstan and Italy and everywhere,” Otabek nodded, and slowly drew his hand up to his breast pocket, pulling out the small box he’d been carrying around for so long, “And we’re going to get married,” Yuri gazed up at him then and his mouth lifted into a small smile,  
“Married?” He whispered and Otabek nodded, smiling back down at him,   
“Married.” He confirmed, “And it’ll be beautiful. We’ll be so happy, Yuri, just you and me.” He slid the ring gently onto Yuri’s finger, “And we can have kids-- when we’re older,” He said, “We can adopt them and watch them grow up; we’ll be a family,”  
“A family,” Yuri murmured, halfway to a dream.  
“Yes,” Otabek whispered, “We’ll be so happy. It’ll be wonderful; we can grow old and grey together-- we’ll always be together,” Yuri’s lips tilted up into a tiny smile, “For the rest of our lives wherever you go, I’ll go too,” Otabek continued, not willing to stop-- not yet, “And we’ll have adventures-- we’ll have so much fun together. We’ll see everything and do everything and there’ll never be any problems.” Yuri’s eyelids fluttered weakly,  
“I love you,” He murmured, and Otabek squeezed his eyes shut as tears spread down his face,  
“I love you too, Yuri, I love you so much,” Otabek opened his eyes again and gazed down at the beautiful man in his arms. He let out a quiet cry, “It’s okay,” He whispered, squeezing Yuri’s hand that he still held, “It’s okay,” He said again, “You can go now. Go to sleep Yuri, and dream about what we’ll do when you wake up. Think about our wedding, and our family, and our kids-- it’s all so close, there’s nothing stopping us now,” Otabek pressed a shaky kiss to Yuri’s forehead and rested his head against it, “It’ll be perfect-- it’ll be so perfect,” and Yuri gave him one last, small smile.   
His chest fell and his body stilled.   
Otabek held him, he held him so gently, ever so gently, as he cried, and he vowed to himself, just like that first night, that he’d never let go.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry.
> 
> Also: I'm toying with the idea of writing an epilogue for this-- thoughts? Should I?
> 
> Last thing: I come from Wattpad (same username if you want to check me out!) and this story was originally published on that site. I have several other stories published on there that I don't intend to publish here, so you can look at those if you want.  
> I'm relatively new to the AO3 scene --especially as a writer; this is my first fic on here-- so if I make any mistakes please let me know! Other than that, I live on comments and kudos (Idk AO3, sorry) so if you liked this please let me know!


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